


we belong together

by BelovedCreation



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedCreation/pseuds/BelovedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones was the biggest nerd in school and now, at his 10-year high school reunion, he is determined to show his best friend Emma Swan how cool he has become. Because that's what she wants, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The small piece of parchment stays tacked to his refrigerator for three weeks before he finally buys the train ticket. On Day Twenty he gets rather drunk and roots through the box of the old keepsakes he keeps in the closet of the spare bedroom. Most of it is junk: macaroni art and participation trophies. But there is a manila folder tucked neatly against the side of the plastic bin filled with his old drawings from high school. At the top is a sketch of a woman’s face. She is smiling, her eyes warm. He stares at the portrait for at least a half an hour, his bottle of rum empty on the floor beside him, and he finally stands, tacks it next to the square of parchment, and goes to bed.

The next morning he sends in the RSVP and orders his tickets.

But now, as he gazes at the arc of blue-and-green balloons marking the entry to Storybrooke High School, Home of the Dragons, he wonders if it would have been better had he burned that manila folder ten years prior when he left this town for good.

The woman sitting behind the table full of nametags looks vaguely familiar and he imagines she was one of the popular girls who used to torture him back when he was scrawny and pockmarked, thick glasses and untamable hair. She gives him a look of appreciation now, her heavily made-up eyes scanning him from his shoes, to his fitted suit; across his clear-skinned face sans glasses and past his slicked-back hair. She grins flirtatiously and leans across the table, better to display her breasts.

“Name?”

“Killian Jones.”

Her brow knits together and she finds the tag easily amongst the J’s. “Killian Jones?” she says “Funny, I don’t remember you.”

He takes it from her and taps at the miniscule senior portrait they’ve so generously included on the side of the laminated tag. Killian purses his lips slightly and rubs it with his thumb, wishing he could erase it as easily as on his computer. “No, lass,” he mutters to himself, “I imagine you wouldn’t.”

Without another look her way, he clips the offensive item onto his jacket pocket and strides into the high school gymnasium, shoulders back and hips leading with a confidence he had never felt as a student and, frankly, does not feel now. The space is full of people mingling and chatting. They’ve sectioned off into the cliques he remembers so well and he tries to run his eyes lazily across the crowd as though he is not searching for one person in particular.

“Killian?”

The voice, though husky and feminine, is not the voice he was hoping to hear, but when he turns around he has a hard time looking sad at the sight of Ruby Lucas grinning at him in all her glory. Gone are the red streaks and thick black eyeliner that had marked her “emo” rebellious phase. But the trademark lipstick remains and, as he pulls away from the hug she bestows upon him, so is the love for low necklines and high hemlines.

“Damn, Killian, I almost didn’t recognize you.” Ruby twirls a finger in the air and he follows her command to slowly revolve on the spot, trying not to let his blush spread when she lets out a low wolf-whistle when his back is fully turned. “Talk about geek to chic, Jones,” she exclaims when face-to-face again.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Lucas,” he retorts with a wink and her jaw drops and her smile spreads.

“Fuck, just wait ‘til Emma gets a look at you.”

He swallows at the sound of her name and he tries to ignore the flash in her eyes that says she’s noticed. “Emma? Is she here?”

“Yeah, she’s sitting over there by the DJ booth. I’m supposed to be getting her and Graham drinks.” She gestures to bar then grabs onto his elbow to lead him to it, oblivious to the fact that his world has just begun to crash down around him.

Graham must be Emma’s husband. Or fiancee. Or boyfriend who she’s madly in love with and cannot bear to part with, even to secure alcohol at this mundane class reunion. Ruby chatters about her life: taking the restaurant over from her Granny and getting married two years ago. She secures four beers, winking at Killian, telling him, “The first round is on me,” and leading him to a table across the room.

The first thing he sees is long blonde hair cascading down her back in curls. Its longer than it was in high school and he’s almost surprised, remembering all the times she would moan and groan and pull it into a pony tale with a sigh and lament that it was too warm to deal with a mountain of hair. Her back is turned to him and she is leaning across the round table to better speak to the man across the table. The gentleman is handsome, with a short beard and dancing eyes and Killian imagines he would have been a jock that teased art class nerds like himself had they gone to the same high school.

He hates him on principal.

For the bullying thing.

Not for being with Emma Swan.

As they approach the table, the man he assumes to be Graham catches sight of Ruby and Killian and smiles mildly. A second later, the blonde turns and his world tilts off its axis once again.

Killian Jones suddenly remembers what it is like to be 18-years-old and in love with your best friend.

There are a few more lines on her face, but they are by her eyes and by her mouth and they’re laugh lines, he is relieved to note: signs of a good life. She isn’t wearing that green eyeshadow she had once been so fond of, her jade eyes now outlined by a subtle brown and lips stained a sweet pink. She stands and their eyes lock and it takes everything inside of him not to leer because she is wearing the sort of dress that 14-year-old Killian would have imagined her wearing in the fantasies where he is a rock star and she is a devoted groupie -- short and black and leather with sky-high heels.

As quickly as he can, Killian lets his frame fall into the now-familiar stance of an unaffected man used to spending his days and nights with gorgeous women. He smirks slightly and waits to see if she will recognize him.

“Killian!”

Her arms wrap around his shoulders and she presses herself against him for several glorious seconds, her hair tickling his nose and her delicious scent of cinnamon and honey invading him. He’s missed her scent and he’s missed  _her_ , every inch of her. Killian is grateful when she pulls back and he discovers he is capable of stepping away. But her hands remain perched on his shoulders and so his own end up awkwardly by her elbows.

“Killian, I missed you.”

He came here to let her know how suave he has become, how much she does not affect him, but he still finds it difficult to pretend as though her very presence isn’t bewitching him. He smiles a bit, a genuine one, and squeezes his hands at her biceps. “I missed you too, love,” he replies.

“Sit down, sit down,” Ruby huffs, plopping herself between Emma and the other gentleman. They follow suit, Killian to Emma’s right, and Ruby places her hand on the man’s shoulder. “Graham, this is Killian Jones, our old friend. Killian, this is Graham, my husband.”

Killian can feel his eyes go a bit buggy with surprise and he reaches his arm across the table to shake hands with the man, trying hard not to look between him and Emma. “Graham, so pleased to meet you,” he says, meaning every word. The handshake is firm. Killian is hardly surprised. A woman like Ruby needs a firm touch.

“Emma was just telling me that Ruby was at the center of some scandals in her day. Is that correct, Killian?”

He chuckles and nods, grasping his beer bottle as a lifeline and taking a gulp before responding. “I seem to remember a scandal or two,” he grins.

Ruby pouts and reaches for her own bottle. “I don’t see what the big deal is, Jones. At least my high school career was  _interesting_.”

“Are you calling me boring?” He bristles, sitting up straighter and raising an eyebrow. Ruby mimics his movements and sticks out her tongue.

“Yes I am. Emma, back me up on this one.”

She is biting her lip to keep in the laughter and when she meets his eyes a smile crosses his own face, sheer joy at seeing her happy. In the last ten years there had been many times he had wondered how her life was going and whether she had found joy; whether she had found her own place in the world. There’s an ease about her now that he never saw in high school and he is curious at the cause. She raises her hands in mock-surrender and he notes the lack of a ring on a significant finger with an internal sigh.

“Not gonna happen, Ruby. I still remember high school well enough to remember not to get caught in a fight between you two.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ruby’s smile betrays how amused she is by Emma’s teasing. “But now that you mention it, feel free to share some high school memories. I bet Graham would never believe that the stud muffin next to you was the biggest nerd in school.” Emma’s gaze returns to him and he isn’t sure whether to thank Ruby or to kill her. Their eyes meet and she smiles as Ruby continues her tirade. “We all met in ceramics class freshman year and poor Killian’s arms were so weak and scrawny he couldn't manage to control his clay on the wheel. Emma and I had to step in and help that entire unit so he could get a passing grade.”

Killian remembers it well: the embarrassment at having two beautiful girls supplement his inferior strength. He had nearly gone home and cried the day Emma Swan had noticed his defeat and recruited her loud-mouthed partner Ruby Lucas to help him out. His heart had decided its course that semester: it loved art and it loved Emma. There was no going back.

“Oh, I don’t know, Ruby,” Emma says finally, eyes never leaving his, “I never thought Killian was that big of a nerd - or that scrawny.” Her grin broadens and Killian’s heart stops beating. “I always thought he was really cute.”

Ruby snorts from the other side of the table. Killian licks his lips slowly, relishing how her eyes dart to his mouth to trace the path, and he gives himself a moment to think. “Not that I do not appreciate your kindness, love,” he murmurs too low for Ruby and Graham to hear, “but I would prefer to be called  _dashing rapscallion_.”

Her brows draw together for for a moment and then she exhales, turning away from him and back to the other people at the table. “You know what,” she says, standing and taking her unclaimed beer in hand, “I think I saw Elsa Arendelle walk by. I’m gonna go flag her down. Give me a minute.” She scurries away and leaves Killian to wonder what on earth she is thinking.

“What the fuck was that?” Ruby is giving him a look of great disgust and he takes a swig of beer as she launches into a tirade. “Is this who you are now, some swarmy guy with too much hair product?”

“If by that you mean a man who knows how to look good, then yes I am.”

Ruby scoffs and rests her elbow in her hand. “Hmm. I liked you better as a loser.” And then she mutters something into her palm, words Killian only barely picks up on. “And Emma liked you better that way too.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Ruby’s eyes are wide but her smile is tight. “Nothing.”

“Lucas..”

Ruby sighs and circles around the table, settling into the empty seat at Killian’s right. “Okay, if you repeat anything that I say, Graham here will kill you.” Killian spares a look at her husband, who shrugs in agreement. “Emma broke up with some loser about six months ago and when we got together to get drunk and bitch about him, she said, and I quote, “How come I can’t find a guy like Killian?””

There’s a tightness in Killian’s chest and a lightness in his head. “Is this a bloody joke?”

She shakes her head. “Serious as a heart attack. She said that whenever it doesn’t work out with a guy she thinks about trying to look you up but she figures you must be married or something by now.” Ruby gives him a quick look. “You aren’t married, are you?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Ruby’s gaze turns piercing and Killian feels apologetic despite not knowing his crimes. “Well maybe you should stop the slick new moves to go with the hair and try being yourself again.”

“In case you failed to remember, Lucas, it was being myself that kept us from being together in high school.”

She pokes him in the arm, hard. “You need a history lesson, Jones. The only thing that kept you two from being together was your own stupid ass fear. So suck it up, use some of the confidence to go with your looks, and talk to her.” She pokes him several more times until he finally stands and walks away, her knowing grin burning in his mind's-eye.

He has a chance.

Killian finds Emma speaking with Elsa, as she had said, although from the way they are seated at a table, there are no signs she will be returning to Ruby and Graham any time soon. Emma laughs at something Elsa says and her head gets thrown back in glee. Killian’s heart twists to see the familiar sight and he wishes he would have been the one to inspire it.

“Excuse me.” Killian taps on Emma’s shoulder and smiles down at her look of surprise. “Emma, would you like to dance?”

The DJ has only been playing songs he recognizes from high school and the current one is no exception. A Mariah Carey song would not be his first choice as the backdrop for a conversation with Emma Swan, but he has to seize the moment while he can. She nods and follows him to the small dance floor, palm warm against his, and that feeling of expansion and contraction hits his chest again.

He places on hand on her waist and she rests her own on his shoulder, close but not close enough, and as soon as she smiles crookedly, he knows what she will say before the words leave her mouth.

“You know what this reminds me of?”

He nods. “Senior prom.”

Her head tilts back and she groans a little, stepping closer to him and her body relaxing as the memories return. “I can’t believe I thought a dress covered in pink feathers was a good idea.”

“You looked lovely.”

Her chin levels off again and a blush begins to color her cheeks. “Thank you.”

His hand slides to the small of her back and he draws her even closer, so his mouth is next to her ear. It is only this way, when he cannot see her face, that he can be bold with his words. “I had the most beautiful date in the whole school. I was a lucky boy.”

Her breath tickles the side of his face. “I was a lucky girl. You were a perfect gentleman.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I was too much of a gentleman.” His fingers run up her spine, slowly, and his pulse quickens when her breath hitches. “Too shy to tell my gorgeous best friend how breathtaking she really was.”

Emma’s head pulls back and she catches his eye, bottom lip between her teeth. “I wasn’t that good looking.”

“Yes you were. And entirely out of my league.”

She shakes her head slowly and deliberately. “No you weren’t.”

He wants to kiss her in that moment. He wants to kiss her so badly that his lips warm at the thought of it. But the inches between them still feel like miles, despite the dozens of women he has kissed since he was an eighteen-year-old boy giving his best friend a peck on the cheek when he dropped her off after prom and another peck before he got in his car to head off to boot camp. He is a coward, always has been, and there is something about this wonderful woman that makes him feel incapable of winning her heart.

She kisses him instead.

Her hands grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling him off of his center of gravity and into her orbit, one that makes his head spin. She tastes of beer, but also oranges and something spicy, and when she presses his lips open with her own and her tongue enters his mouth, he sighs at the taste of her. Her kiss makes him bolder than he ever was in high school and he wants to impress her, show her that he is worth kissing. His hand cups her soft cheek and he pulls her closer, taking over the moment and grinning against her lips when he can feel her shiver in his arms.

“Where are you staying?” she whispers against his mouth.

“The Marriott.”

“Are you going to invite me back to your room or do I have to make all the moves?”

Although the idea of her taking charge is rather exciting, he nods shortly and presses his lips to hers again, briefly, before asking, “Will you come back to my room for a nightcap?”

“I’d love to.”

* * *

Emma makes her goodbyes quickly, promising Ruby and Elsa both that she is in town all week and arrangements will be made to catch up in a more low-key environment. Her hand slides across his bottom as they make their way out the door, flinging nametags at the blonde still behind the table, and making him turn bright red.

“If you do such scandalous things in public, I am almost afraid to be alone with you , Swan,” he teases with mock-horror.

“Trust me, Killian, you will be very happy to see the things I do when I’m alone with a guy.”

There is a brief flash of jealousy that courses through him, followed by blood rushing to his groin, and after helping her into the passenger seat of his rental car, he adjusts himself before stepping into the driver’s side.

The ride to the hotel is just long enough for him to discover that Emma has recently moved to Boston following her recent break up. She doesn’t say anything about the man in question, but the look of annoyance that crosses her face is enough to tell him everything he needs to know. Instead, he urges her to talk about her job.

“I actually love it, which is kind of weird,” she says, a smile lighting up her face again. “I don’t think many kids grow up wanting to be a bail bondsperson, but its fun and challenging and I’m really good at it.”

“I bet you are.”

She gives him a long look and he has to fight not to draw back from her scrutiny. “What do you do?”

“Graphic design.”

Emma raises a single eyebrow and nods. “That is the least surprising thing I’ve heard all night. You were always much better than me at art.” Under flickering glow of streetlamps he senses she has gone a little pink. “I only kept taking those classes because you were in them.”

His heart stops again, long enough that he starts to wonder if he should contact a doctor when he returns to New York. “Truly?”

“Of course.” Her hand closes over his on his thigh. “I thought you knew that. I was  _terrible_.”

“You weren’t so bad.”

“Shut up, Killian, I was the worst. But I got to sit by you and hang out and that was more important than a 4.0 GPA.”

“But-?” His eyebrows draw together and he chances a look at her amused expression. “But why would you want to spend so much time with me? I was pathetic.”

He pulls the car into a space at the hotel lot and puts it in park, too nervous to meet her eyes again, heart racing like mad in fear and anticipation. Her hand turns his over and laces their fingers together, drawing his gaze before her other hand slides along the side of his head and turns him to look in her glowing green eyes.

“You were not pathetic, Killian. You were the kindest, sweetest, most thoughtful person in that stupid school. I liked hanging out with you because you made me laugh and I kept doing it because I fell in love with you.”

Her words hang in the crowded space of the rental car for far too long and Killian finds himself blinking in confusion instead of kissing her as he knows he should. “You- you fell in love with me?”

“Back in freshman year ceramics. From that moment on I was a goner.”

“But you never-”

“No.” She smiles bitterly. “I never told you. I was a scared kid and I thought maybe you didn’t like me back. Sometimes I thought maybe you liked Ruby. She’s a little hard to compete with.”

“I never loved Ruby,” he says lowly, seriously.

“No?”

“Never.”

Their lips meet again in a soft, hot slide that has Killian seeing stars again and he pulls back only when she releases his hand and starts to work hers up his trousers.

“Should we go up to your room?”

“As you wish, love.”

* * *

It feels like the prom night he was never brave enough to imagine, the room key working on the first try and sweeping out his arm to let her enter first. She looks around the small room, taking in his open suitcase and the book on the bedside table.

“When did you stop wearing these?” she asks, crossing the room to pick up the glasses case sitting on top of his book. Emma sets her purse down on the table and pries the case open, pulling out the thick frames that have now become trendy and running her thumb along the slopes with a whimsical smile. “Your face looks strange without them.”

“I could take out my contacts if you prefer.”

She nods definitively and crosses back to him with the glasses dangling from her fingers. “I would prefer. I’d rather spend the night with my best friend, not the guy who sort of looks like him.”

There are nervous butterflies that have taken up residence in his stomach, but Killian still manages to make it into the bathroom and remove his contacts without poking out his eye. When he returns, Emma’s heels are neatly placed next to his tennis shoes and he likes the sight of her possessions next to his, a picture of domesticity and intimacy.

“Much better,” she grins, running her fingers through his hair to muss it up and sliding the jacket off of his shoulders. “I’m sure the babes like the  _dashing rapscallion_  look but I like it when you’re  _you_.”

He kisses her again, because when the woman you’ve loved for half of your life tells you she likes you, used to love you, some of that cowardice melts away and gets replaced by the desire to let her know how much you like her too. Killian can feel how his frames are pressed against the side of her face as they kiss, but she doesn’t appear to mind it, from the way she is grinning and digging her fingers into the small of his back.

She’s shorter now, with her heels off, and he uses his height to his advantage, towering over her and taking control of the kiss. When his hand finds the ass he used to think about as he touched himself in the shower, she squeals a bit and rises up on her tiptoes, making him take a step back and half-land on the dresser. She plants herself between his open thighs, hands already pulling his dress shirt up so she can press her palms along his spine. She draws closer, hips aligning with his, and whimpers when his kisses cross her cheek and his tongue dips into the shell of her ear.

“I want you, Killian,” she sighs. “I want you so badly.” Her hand guides his to the zipper on the back of her dress and she nods her encouragement as he slowly slides it downward. The leather drops to the floor with a solid thump, joined quickly by his shirt and belt.

The pants take a moment longer, as he is fumbling with the button and zipper, scared to look up and see her in her underwear for fear of finishing on the spot at the sight. He slips off his shoes and lets the trousers fall to the floor. Killian steps out of them and tugs off his socks with one hand and leads her backward by the hip with the other until she lands on the bed.

“Fuck me,” he breathes when he looks at her, naught but a scrap of black lace between her thighs and two pieces of black lace holding up her breasts. “Are you sure you want to do this, love?” he asks, knowing he is a fool for even asking. “Because the men that you could get-”

“-are not you.” She smiles and rolls her eyes a little bit, reaching out her hands to take his and pull him on the bed next to her. “And I only want you.”

He kisses her again, feeling like the luckiest man in the bloody world. And when she kneels on the ground between his legs and starts peeling off his boxers, he knows that he must have died and gone to heaven. She peppers his thighs with open-mouthed kisses, finally landing a sloppy one on the head of his cock that makes him twitch in her hand.

“Have you thought of this before?” she whispers against his manhood, gazing up at him with amusement. “Me giving you a blowjob?”

Killian nods, not trusting his voice.

Emma grins and slowly,  _slowly_ , drags her mouth down the length of him. All the years of fantasies are nothing like the real thing, with the smell of Emma invading his senses and her eyes unable to leave his own. She brings him nearly to the brink with a twist of the wrist and a flick of the tongue, and pulls away suddenly with a swollen-lipped smile.

“I thought of that sometimes too,” she admits, running her tongue along the head once more before standing and pulling off her bra. “But I thought of other things as well.” Emma pulls a condom out of her purse and rolls it onto his aching cock. She wriggles out of her miniscule panties and straddles him, running her warm pussy against him. “Like this-”

But before she can impale herself on him, he stops her with two hands on her hips and pulls them both further up on the bed. “Wait,” he says, places his glasses on his book again and pulling her up by the waist so her knees are on either side of his head. “I wasn’t done with my fantasy.” And, laughing slightly, she lets him pull her down so he can taste her. He had thought her perfume and her mouth were sweet, but they are nothing compared to the sweet nectar that falls between his lips. That she is so wet makes him even harder, the realization that turning him on has turned her on. Killian pulls her closer so he can lap at her nub and she jolts on top of him with a little shout.

“Killian.”

His name falling from her lips as his own are wrapped around her clit is a bloody dream come true and he gives her all the care and attention he can so she will understand what this means to him. As she did with him, he pulls back when he senses she is getting close, and she swings her leg off of him to land on her ass next to him with a giggle.

“Fuck, have you always been so good at that?”

“I am afraid I was a quivering virgin when last we met, Swan.”

“Hmmm.” His glasses are placed back in his hand and he slides them on in time to see her devious smile as she straddles his hips once again. “I guess there are a few things I like more about the new Killian Jones then.”

“Such as?”

She lines him up against her entrance and her lips twist in a comical show of intense concentration. “I like that he’s naked,” she teases. “And that he came to the class reunion.” Her eyes grow serious and she leans forward to kiss him softly, lips barely brushing one another and her cheeks grow pink again. “But mostly I like that he’s still the same good guy as the old Killian Jones.”

Its too much: her gaze, her body, her smiles and blushes, her free admission of her affection for him. He takes hold of her hips and rolls them over so he is between her creamy thighs. “Oh Emma,” he whispers, a hand under her ass and the other wrapped around his cock, “I loved you from the day that we met and I never stopped loving you.”

The admission should frighten or concern her, but instead she grins and closes her eyes in bliss when he slides inside of her, her walls tight and wonderful around his cock until he reaches bottom. She hums when he begins to slide back out and her eyes open again, glazed over but fully aware.

“I love you too, Killian.”

He has to lift his hand from her body sometimes to adjust his slipping glasses, but the discomfort is worth it to see how her eyes gaze into his with so much affection and wonder. It doesn’t take long for him to approach his completion, another throwback to his high school days, but as her whimpers rise in pitch, he feels confident that she will join him as he falls apart. When she does, fingers pulling on his hair and flicking across her clit, her spasming muscles send him over the edge and he collapses on top of her immediately.

They must pass out for a minute because he next finds himself on his side, condom still wrapped around the base of his deflating cock and her hair tickling his nose. She is breathing steadily and so he slips from the bed to clean himself up and turn out the lights. Killian tucks the covers over the two of them and when she shifts in her sleep to bury her head in his chest he nearly bursts at the feeling of her so near.

* * *

The next morning everything feels right in a way it has never felt before. There is no embarrassment, no awkwardness, and after they touch and tease one another again, finishing and collapsing on the bed, they share a chaste shower full of splashing and teasing and laughter. They arrive at Granny’s diner holding hands and it feels like high school again, eating with Emma and Elsa and Kristoff and Ruby.

Except this time when Emma steals one of his bacon strips, he can steal a kiss from her and make her smile.

This time, he pushes his glasses up his nose and doesn’t feel like the biggest nerd in the school, but the luckiest man in the world. 


	2. loverboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a mess, and I wrote more.

It’s the first piece of mail she gets at her new apartment in Boston, her life in shambles around her, packed messily into boxes that had somehow managed to carry out her clothes and her pain, but when she opens the envelope and sees the parchment square inside, it feels like a sign.

Her conversation with Ruby from two days before is hazy, but still memorable.

_“He’s an asshole,” she slurs, eyes narrowing as she leans forward on the shabby couch and her full glass of liquor sloshes onto her yoga pants. “Every time I needed him to step up to the plate he wasn’t there for me. Its like I wasn’t important to him.”_

_Ruby nods sympathetically and carefully extracts the glass from Emma’s fingers. “Think of it as a new start, sweetie. You get to do whatever you want.”_

_Emma’s eyes well up with unbidden tears. “But I don’t want a new start! I want an old one.” Her head falls all the way forward finally, forehead landing on Ruby’s shoulder and she noisily sniffles._

_“Emma, that doesn’t make any sense.”_

_“Yes it does,” she mutters into Ruby’s shoulder. “The right guy isn’t a new one, its an old one.”  She buries her head further into the space between Ruby’s neck and shoulder. “How come I can’t find a guy like Killian?”_

Killian Jones, her best friend from high school (besides Ruby Lucas, of course) had been on her mind a lot in the final, fateful months of her relationship with Neal. Every time Neal stayed out all night with his co-workers and didn’t show up for scheduled double dates, she couldn’t help but put a little  _x_  in a mental checklist of all the things that Killian would have never done.

Not going with her to her great-aunt’s funeral had been the final straw.

There had been a tiny part of her that had wondered if Killian would actually show up to that funeral, having joined her and her adoptive parents David and Mary Margaret at Aunt Eva’s several times to enjoy her fattening pastries. But when neither of them had showed up, it was Neal she loathed and Killian she longed to see. With the arrival of the class reunion invitation, it was like a sign from the universe saying that he was within reach again.

She sent back her RSVP the next day.

 

* * *

 

The drive to Maine is a familiar one, taken on holidays and special occasions, her adoptive parents always more than willing to put fresh sheets on her bed and bake pancakes in the morning. So it is not such a big occasion to drive through the streets of Storybrooke, past the high school where a crew is probably already setting up for the reunion the next evening. Emma Swan goes to sleep comfortable and loved.

And she only wakes up two times dreaming of clear blue eyes and a shy smile.

 

* * *

 

Although high school had been a decent enough four years, there is still some anxiety about walking into its halls again, but the short leather dress and high heels feel like her own brand of armor, stronger than she feels and sexier than she had ever dressed in high school. Ruby grins wide when she gets a look at Emma’s ensemble and takes Emma’s hand in her own to twirl her slowly. “Damn, Emma,” she laughs when Emma has shown herself off to Ruby’s satisfaction. “Killian is not going to know what hit him!”

“Yeah, about that…” Emma hooks her arm in Ruby’s and pulls her from the entrance to a table, hoping Graham’s learned by now that you have to pay attention if you’re with Ruby. “Things I say when I’m drunk are strictly between you and me, right?” Ruby bites her bright red lips and Emma glares until she smiles, the picture of innocence.

“Of course, my dearest friend,” Ruby trills.

 

* * *

 

She senses him before she turns around, the heat of his gaze upon her back making her heart pound a rapid beat inside of her chest. She stands to face him, to face her past.

His eyes are still the same.

They meet hers and she wonders how her knees don’t buckle from relief at seeing him again. Though his eyes are the same, deep and blue and gorgeous, the rest of him is so different she almost doesn’t recognize him. The lanky arms she had tucked around her while they watched movies in his brother’s apartment are thicker, stronger. The tension he had worn like a second skin, always wary of douchebag bullies, has melted into a relaxed ease. His hair is slicked back, making his face look sharper, and the thick glasses have disappeared.

Even his sweet smile has become a cocky smirk.

But its still the same Killian (she hopes) with those beautiful eyes, and so she exclaims his name and wraps her arms around him. She pulls away before she’s had her fill of his body against hers and keeps her hands on his shoulders so she can examine him further for traces of the sweet boy who had let anyone and everyone sit at the cafeteria table with them, who had spent hours painstakingly preparing a diorama for Elsa’s little sister Anna when she had dropped hers, who had created the most beautiful drawings she had ever seen in her life.

“Killian, I missed you.”

And there, just for a moment, the smirk becomes a real smile, and her heart melts.

“I missed you too, love.”

They sit down and it is like the old days, Ruby and Killian bantering like they always did. Her stomach twists just a bit. She had spent many nights wondering if Killian had never made a move because his affections lie with Ruby, and the doubts never really went away. Now, at least, she knows that he won’t be hitting on her friend with a ring on her finger and a man in her bed.

Then again, Emma’s never wanted to win by default. She’s wanted to be  _chosen_.

At Ruby’s phrase “stud muffin,” Emma turns with a small amount of surprise to look at Killian again. On her second inspection, she realizes that he really  _does_ look like one of those models on the cover of magazines, all lean muscles and swarthy charm. Its a far cry from the awkward kid of her youth, but she had always found him handsome, even when the rest of the world hadn’t spared him a second glance.

How could anyone discount someone whose goodness had shone through him like a beacon?

“Oh, I don’t know, Ruby. I never thought Killian was that big of a nerd.” She grins, feeling her face turn red again at her admission. “I always thought he was really cute.”

Instead of the blushes that used to accompany any of her compliments, Killian’s tongue runs along the length of his bottom lip slowly, obscenely. Her eyes are drawn to the odd sight. The words that flow from his mouth are quiet, but they ring loud in her ears. “Not that I do not appreciate your kindness, love, but I would prefer to be called  _dashing rapscallion_.”

It as though he has thrown a bucket of cold water over her head, so fast does the disgust creep up her spine. Her face scrunches up a little, the feeling quickly covered up by a sigh and she turns to Ruby and Graham. Emma makes up a flimsy excuse to flee from the table and walks away before she can shake the man masquerading as Killian Jones and demand he return her friend to her.

His words had made her want to throw up. It hadn’t been so bad, the actual vowels and consonants, but the way they were uttered had given her vivid flashbacks to all the overbearing men who had hit on her in bars for the last ten years, thinking they were God’s gift to woman and that the fairer sex needed to acquiesce to their every filthy desire. The thought of Killian joining their ranks makes her wish she hadn’t wasted her time imagining that he was better than any foul-mouthed loser who smacked her ass in a bar as she walked away.

“Elsa!” Its a small miracle that she spots her old chem partner, despite lying her ass off about having seen her earlier. She embraces the icy blonde now sporting a funky bob. At Elsa’s side is another 2005 graduate, Kristoff, with his wife, Elsa’s sister Anna, tucked under his massive arm. “Elsa, how are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Awful,” Emma admits candidly, as always feeling as though she can tell Elsa the truth. “Can you save me from having all of my dreams destroyed at this event?”

Elsa furrows her brow and takes Emma by the arm, leading her to a table for two closer to the dance floor. “Of course I can, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

Emma sighs and takes a long drink of her beer, suddenly grateful Ruby and Graham picked her up from her parents’ so she doesn’t have to worry about leaving this place sober. “Apparently Killian is a douchebag now.”

Elsa places a hand over Emma’s and leans forward. “It happens to the best of them,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Why do you think I started batting for the other team?”

The joke isn’t terribly good, but it is a relief to laugh, throwing her head back to let out the anxiety that’s been building. Emma squeezes Elsa’s hand and smiles. “Maybe I’ll have to join you.”

The blonde’s eyes catch on something behind Emma and she smirks. “I don’t think the other team is ready to give you up so easily.”

Emma only has a second to wonder what Elsa means before she can feel Killian’s presence again, then his strong fingers tapping her shoulder.

“Excuse me. Emma, would you like to dance?”

The smile is back again, the  _real_ one this time, the one that had made her heart flutter when the glaze on his first vase came out exactly the way he wanted it to. And it is that smile, more than the hand reaching out to her, that tells her to stand up and follow him out to the dance floor.

Last time they slowly swayed together in this gym both of his hands had rested on her hips and his grin could have powered the whole room all night. The smile ten years later is aiming to rival that grin but now, when his chest puffs with pride at holding her in his arms, it almost touches her own chest.

At least she’s not wearing that hideous pink-feather-covered dress this time, and the thought that he had believed her to be lovely makes her flush again, mostly from shame.

He adjusts his grip and suddenly she is pressed against him, thigh to shoulder, and all of her thoughts fly from her head at the feeling of the muscles hiding beneath his suit and his scent invading her nostrils with warm spice. “I had the most beautiful date in the whole school. I was a lucky boy.”

“I was a lucky girl. You were a perfect gentleman.”

The chuckle he gives is dark and suggestive and Emma can feel her belly flip. “Sometimes I wonder if I was too much of a gentleman.”

A moment later, she leaves him in no doubt about her feelings on the ridiculous notion that she was “out of his league” with a sharp kiss that starts comforting and quickly shifts into something that makes her thighs tremble and heart race again. He makes her shiver in his arms and she wonders what else he can inspire in her.

 

* * *

 

The first time with other guys had always been a bit awkward. No matter how many dates they had been on or bases they had rounded, the first time had involved some clumsiness and uncertainty about expectations and roles. But it is different with Killian, being ushered into his hotel room as though he has prepared it special for her. The traces of his life, of his scent, are mere shadows of his old bedroom on Pine Street, now owned by a family with a pack of little terrors.

It is that comfort, the ease in her spine, that gives her confidence to cross the room and request he turn back into the Killian she loves.

When he exits the bedroom with the thick frames, she feels more moisture in the apex of her thighs and she bites her lip against the slight moan that threatens to escape.

“Much better.” Her fingers run through his hair and when he smiles at her, uncertain, Killian Jones has returned and her heart squeezes at the realization. Finally, finally she gets to fulfill the one fantasy high school never gave to her. “I’m sure the babes like the  _dashing rapscallion_ ,” she whispers with a coy smile, “but I like it when you’re  _you_.”

 

* * *

 

  
It is  _wonderful_ .

* * *

 

Emma Swan wakes up the next morning in an unfamiliar room. The sheet wrapped around her naked body is not the soft jersey of her bed in Boston, and it is only when she starts to roll over and hits a warm, naked chest, that the pieces from the previous night fall into place.

Its Killian.

She smiles as she carefully turns in his arms and gets a good look at him in the dim morning light. At the reunion, when she had spotted him without his glasses, it had been disturbing, but with his hair sticking up on one side and red creases on his face from the pillow, the lack of glasses makes him look younger, boyish almost, and she lifts a finger to trace one of those red marks.

She loves him so much.

She doesn’t want to ever leave this bed.

She.. really has to pee.

Carefully, to keep him from waking, Emma slides out from the covers and tiptoes across the hotel room, skirting the clothing strewn haphazardly around the floor. There’s really no way to pee or flush quietly, but when she peeks her head back around the corner, she hopes to find Killian still snoring.

He’s sitting up.

The sheet has fallen to his waist, showing the wide expanse of his chest and the soft hair that covers it, making her remember vividly the feeling of it brushing against her nipples the night before. Killian is squinting at her, confused.

“I was afraid you had left,” he murmurs sleepily. “Or worse, I had imagined the whole thing.”

Her heart does a little flop and she smiles as she crawls on the bed, pressing his shoulders onto the mattress and resting her head on his chest as she sprawls out on top of him. “No hallucinations. Last night was the real deal.”

“I suspected as much. My dreams were never as wonderful as that was.” His chest vibrates when he speaks.

She kisses him again, just to see if it feels as good as it had the night before, and she smiles against his lips when she realizes that it is even better, the warmth of him pressed against her and his arms circling her waist. Emma wiggles against him a little bit and laughs when she feels how he is already hard against her thigh.

“I won’t be mocked, you bloody minx,” Killian grunts, pulling his mouth from hers and giving her an opportunity to trail her kisses down his neck and dip her tongue into the hollow of his collarbone.

“Not true,” she says into his throat. “I used to mock you all the time and you dealt with it.”

“I was a boy then, not a man.” She looks up at him, grinning at the look of pride stretched across his face. “A man does not tolerate being mocked. And a boy,” he grasps a thigh and flips her so she is sprawled out on the bed beneath him, “could not do this.”

“Now that’s just not true,” she counters, shivering a bit when his warm mouth closes around a nipple and sucks the sensitive flesh. “I would have been with you back then.”

His beard brushes against the skin below her breast and her hips rise, slowly, seeking friction against the leg between her thighs. “Then I was a fool for being such a coward.”

Their hands trace and tease one another, the haste of the night before melting into something soft and exploratory. When he climbs off the bed to roll a condom on, she stands up to help him.

“Can I be on top this time?” she whispers, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. The boldness to ask for what she wanted exactly how she wanted it had never come this quickly and easily with other guys, but Killian doesn’t even question it. He lays down on the bed and grins up at her like the cat that ate the cream. “And one more thing?” She gives him a sheepish smile and holds up his glasses.

His face falls a little bit. “Emma, do you want to be with me or with my eyeglasses?”

She quickly sets down the glasses and crawls on top of him to grasp his face in her hands, smiling down at her best friend and first love. “I want to be with  _you_. But that good heart of yours is now wrapped inside of this ridiculously hot package and its a little weird to adjust to.” She holds up the glasses again and bites her lip. “I mean - the glasses don’t make you look any less fuckable, but they do make you look a little more like the sweet artist I fell in love with.”

He takes the frames from her fingers and slides them onto his face, the gleeful smile back and accompanied by pink cheeks. “As the lady wishes,” he mutters, but the bite is missing.

“The lady does wish,” she grins.

 

* * *

 

The first weekend he visits her in Boston, she gets an emergency call about a bail jumper and has to leave him alone for three hours. When she returns, she finds him sitting outside on her balcony, sketching. He used to draw her all the time back in high school, silly little things of her smiling, eating, studying. He claimed his art classes at the local community center had required the practice, although in the last two weeks she’s started to wonder if that was completely truthful. She bends down to wrap her arms around his neck, kiss his cheek, and peer at his latest drawing.

It is of her, tangled in the sheets of that hotel room, sleeping with a peaceful expression.

“I drew it from memory,” he whispers. “From that first night, when I came back from washing up you looked so content.”

“Of course I was,” she whispers back, capturing his lips in a way that makes her toes tingle. “I finally got the guy.” 


End file.
